


The Kid

by DemaciasBrokenWing



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Been meaning to write more about my favorite Freljordian so here you go, Gen, He's not going to be as angsty as Garen though, Short Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemaciasBrokenWing/pseuds/DemaciasBrokenWing
Summary: The Freljord is a harsh place to live. A young goat experiences this first hand...





	The Kid

The Freljord is known for being harsh and nearly inhabitable. The freezing temperatures last year round… and it drops to a deadly cold when the winter winds start howling through the peaks and valleys of the jagged rocks that form the land. Those who are not prepared for such a terrible way of living will not last long… and their corpses get added to the numerous forgotten that lay buried beneath the ever changing layers of snow. Perhaps that is why the rest of Valoran has no interest in the war for the mountain between the three factions. They think there is nothing to gain from the land…

…Perhaps peace is no longer a valuable enough resource to fight for, to them.

Yet, even in the most grueling lands… life always finds a way to adapt. A young goat with budding horns and short grey hairs covering its body was one of the beings of the Freljord… and it seems as if it was being tested on its ability to survive. The kid had ventured off on its own… and was now at the mercy of a stubborn bush devoid of foliage. He tossed his head back and forth at first in frustration… but then in desperation. The winds were at their peak… and it carried stinging shards of ice in its wake.  He needed to get free… and quick. A shrill bleat emerged from his muzzle as he admitted he was utterly stuck. This bush was not entirely dead, it seemed… or if it was, it was hungry to bring a living being to the ranks.

Another pleading bleat was mustered while the kid thrashed his head. Nothing seemed to be working… and his wails for help were being muffled by the screeching, horrible winds. In this fight between life and death, it was looking like the latter was going to be victorious. Between the increasing cold and the goat’s building hunger and thirst, it was going to be a painful descent.

The approach of death seemed to summon a figure from the distance. Across the hills, the goat could barely make out shadow… it was small, at first, but it slowly started to get bigger… and bigger…

…and even bigger still.

The massive figure was towering and hulking, and it seemed like it was focused on just one thing—the kid stuck in the clutches of gnarled wood. This was the Freljord, after all. Predators lurked around every corner. This was an easy kill for a being that preferred the tastes of raw meat. And sensitive ears could easily discern the difference between the wind and the cry of prey.

Panic consumed the goat as the figure stopped moving… and a deep thud pulsed through the ground. He cried out even louder as he tried to back away from the approaching shadow, only for the unyielding branches to keep their hold upon his horns. His small hooves made feeble attempts to swing at the branches to knock them away… but his youth proved to be his downfall as the wings fell short, and then resulted in a clumsy fall.

One last cry of utter fear left the goat’s muzzle as the shadow reached out. A large force grabbed him by the base of his head… and then with a tug, he was pulled free of the entangling bush. There was no chance to run, however, as the figure pulled the goat back and up, away from the ground.

The kid was enveloped in darkness. Warmth was the next thing to encroach his body—

And then…

…Oats?

The terrified goat’s nose flared slightly as it took in the familiar scent of its food. Wearily, he leaned forward and dipped his head down to nibble at the grains. He was resting upon a rather sturdy pillar… and the oats were just a bow of the head away.

“That… was almost close call, eh?” A cheery, yet profound voice boomed from outside the darkness. The kid could feel his body bobbing up and down as the figure holding him walked through the harsh winds.

“You are not quite old enough to scale mountain on your own, friend,” the voice continued. “Eat and grow strong! Horns and legs will grow and you will join other goats atop Targon!”

The goat’s tensions started to decline as he went back to eating the oats in the open hand of his rescuer. Once they were all gone, his flat tongue licked at the leather glove that held the food.  A small chuckle could be heard, and a calloused finger curled over to rub the goat’s head.

“There will be more in short time. Just keep put.”

The warmth was comforting to the goat… his eyes grew heavy…

A little nap sounded nice.

The goat’s slumber was interrupted by a sudden rush of light. He blinked his eyes open and looked around. He was no longer in the middle of a terrible storm… and the sun shined brightly upon a flat plot of land with a small cottage in the distance. A small plume of smoke rose from a chimney attached to the cottage, and a large gated pen ran along its side. Within the wooden fence, other goats trotted around and grazed in troughs.

“Home, once again!” The rescuer cheered. “Storm was bitter, but we were strong!” After a hearty chuckle, the kid was carried over to the pen and placed inside. He started to dart towards a familiar sight- the trough where water was supplied. However, he did take a moment to glance back and up at the shadowy figure who had rescued him.

The sun revealed a large Freljordian man, who was now shedding the cloak that he had veiled his muscular body with while traveling. To his side, a massive shield with the head of a ram carved onto it rest in the snow. His cheeks were a cherry red, but they complimented his beaming smile and twinkling blue eyes. A curly, long moustache of brown was caked with specks of ice and snow. He moved a hand up to clean the facial hair, and he grinned down at the once lost kid.

“Braum is here, my friend,” the Freljordian spoke kindly. “No need for fear, anymore.”


End file.
